


Mr. (Actually Not So) Perfect

by turntochapter13



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Barry really good at hiding his feelings, Crying, Depression, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Angst, Game Night, Gen, Guilty Wally, Hidden Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Repressed Feelings, Sad Barry, The West Family Game Night, barry has nightmares, family night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntochapter13/pseuds/turntochapter13
Summary: Wally's still new to this unfamiliar family. He's not used to their inside jokes or how they like their breakfast, or the fact that his foster brother is always perfect--but is he really? What happens in the deep depths of the night when all Barry has to guard himself are his cotton sheets--his terrors through the night open for anyone and everyone to see.*Barry has a nightmare about his mother dying and Wally is there to witness it*





	Mr. (Actually Not So) Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I don't have a beta so plz comment to point out any errors. Also, I really don't know where to place this in the actually show where it could be canon. Just be aware that,  
> 1) This is obviously set somewhere in season two.  
> 2) Wally doesn't know that Barry is The Flash nor does he know of the circumstances under which Barry came to live at the West house for.  
> 3) Barry doesn't live in the West household at the moment nor do Wally and Iris.
> 
> So yah... leave that to your own mind to figure our when this was cause...uh I was bored... and I wrote this... thats it :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy th- wait-thats not- thats the wrong phrasing. Um I really hope you take pleasur- okay yah, that sounds just as wrong. Uh... just...just read the story... aaaaand have your feelings... yah...okay... go ahead
> 
> \- Lili <3

 

 

Wednesday, the annual West Family Night, according to Joe at least. Wally wasn’t really used to things like this though. All he usually did on Wednesday was get a pizza from Domino's with what he was able to scrap up that week and share it with his mom, but now his mom was gone; taken by the stupid thing this world calls cancer—why the earth would do that to him, was wasn’t sure, but he also knew that Joe and Iris were the only family he had now. Though he was tempted, he couldn’t just leave them in the dust, more for him than for them. His racing buddies weren't the most reliable of people.

This was all he had left and he wasn’t going to pass it up, no matter how mad he was at Joe. Deep down, he understood his father's point of view. It was more of the fact that he was never introduced to Joe sooner—and while it was blatantly clear that was more his mother's fault than anyone's, he couldn’t find it in him to blame her. He couldn’t blame a dead woman--so instead, he did the next best thing and he blamed his dad, you know, the one he didn't even know he had until almost a year ago. Sure, it wasn't the right thing to do but he needed an outlet, and since Iris and Joe were making such a show over him drag-racing, he had to find some other way to blow his fuse. Eventually he'd start to warm up to the current family dynamics. He was already feeling more at home as the days went by, but he wasn't completely through with it yet.

And then there was the "white shadow". Well, technically not 'then' since Barry's been with them since he was what? Eleven? Wally liked to call him Mr. Perfect. He really didn’t care if the first name was offensive. What? Were they _not_  expecting someone to pay notice the dramatic difference in melanin? He always seemed to be lost within his own mind, distant, especially from Wally—not that he minded. He really wasn't fond of the guy who was practically living the life he never got to just because Joe and Francine called it quits, nor did he enjoy the overcompensating need Joe and Iris always seemed to have with talking about him and/or speaking of his exceeding accomplishments with megawatt smiles to match.

Now here Barry was, yet again, staring off into seemingly nowhere as Iris chanced whether she should buy the water distribution center on Jackson St. within the little Monopoly board or not. He was unaware as to why to the two other West's never seemed to take into account the habitual actions of the young man—maybe they were used to it. But then again, as soon as it came, one mention of his name and it was gone, replaced by that blinding and giddy smile, and no matter how hard Wally attempted to prove himself wrong, that manner was contagious in every sense of the word and he couldn't help it when a smirk would cross his face as well—but that didn’t change the way he felt about him.

Before they knew it, the clock fronted the time, _12:30pm_ , but before anyone could even reach for their coats, Joe announced that they should look outside. A collective groan fell from all three young adults' mouths. Each and every car in sight was buried in several inches of snow. "Welp" Joe thinned out his lips, causing his cheeks to protrude outwards, "looks like you're snowed in."

 

Now it was _2:10am_ according to the green numbers laden to the digital clock in the guest room that Wally was staying in. He had _just_ fallen asleep—those moments seeming to be fewer and farther apart nowadays. Still, just when he'd think that this peaceful stupor would rescue him from the days troubles, he would be plagued with bad dreams—well—they weren't _all_ bad per se. It really was a random luck-of-the-draw situation—"luck" being the operative word for when they seemed to be good. Sometimes he would see his mother wearing a beautiful sundress with a garden behind her to match accordingly, her appearance clean and healthy as though the pesky claws of disease and death never laid a grimy hand on her—others though were polar and juxtaposed to the peaceful ones, murky air and open caskets, maggots and worms seeping within his moms body as she decomposed right in front of him.

Luckily, tonight was one of the good ones.

Then he heard a shout. At first, he was afraid that his happier thoughts were about to be dominated by the darker ones—a gravestone already forming its image within his head, but in an instant, he was yanked from his comatose state by the realization that the noise wasn’t his subconscious catering to the impending nightmare. It was real.

He jolted up in his bed, blankets bunching up at his legs. The guest room emanated an eerie silence—and then it happened again. A scream racked out from the room to the left of his. It sounded like a man— _wait... isn't that Barry's room?_ "Please! No!", the distorted voice bellowed.

"What the hell?" He grunted, before wiping his face in an attempt to wake himself up. He got up off the mattress, grabbing his sweats and shimmying them over his boxers. He faltered over to the door, wavering by the knob, lost in his own wariness before turning it and pulling it open. He almost ran straight into Joe, who speed-walked past him, barely registering his completely baffled son. At the same time, Iris came from the other side of the hall, both meeting in front of the, now, only closed bedroom door within the narrow passage.

"When did they start up again?", Joe groaned, still with concern lacing over the wavering need for sleep.

"How should I know?" Iris replied, manner of speech similar to her fathers as she continued, "He's been living in that apartment for a few years now. He never mentioned to me that he was having them again."

"Oh, god, no! Please, Mom!", another round of pleas left the room, echoing throughout the hall.

"Hold up. Hold up!", Wally said finally walking out of the doorframe and making himself known, "What the hell is going on here?!" Joe and Iris  jumped at his presence and then remained at a loss of words--both mouths moved but nothing escaped. Wally continued. "I just fell asleep and then I hear this-this…this _moping_." He instantly regretted the word choice. He didn't mean it that way--or maybe he did. He wasn't sure. He was tired--and cranky--and the lack of sleep reduced his vocabulary choices, not really formulating the most accurate or at least moral thing to say in this situation. Both father and daughter were taken aback, but quickly, Joe recovered, ignoring the ignorance of his youngest son's words and returning his attention to the task at hand.

"I'll handle it this time."

"Are you sure?" Iris asked, placing a supportive hand on her dad's shoulder.

"Yah… just…just stay out here." He sucked in a big breath as yet another cry echoed through the house, cascading through each and every room within, sending its occupants into a bout of chills. Wally was still dumb-founded, standing there, bare chest finally feeling the consequences from the cold temperature that had seemed to envelope the West household. He wrapped his arms around himself, attempting to block out the breeze, not even noticing that Joe had walked into Barry's room until another yell sounded from that direction--more clear and apparent.

It snapped him back into awareness. He only had to strain his pupils to visualize what was going on within the dark room for a beat before Joe switched the lamp on, sending a dim image of the inside across his vision. Barry was thrashing around in his bed, the blankets discarded to his side. He had sweat pants on, but no shirt--kind of similar to Wally's current attire.

Even through the darkness, a gleam of sweat was easy to see, laden to his chest and forehead. He wheezed in staggered patterns, his arms absently struggling to grab purchase of his surroundings, clenching  onto the wrinkled sheets around him before releasing them just as quick.

"Barry." Joe croaked, his tone and his overall hold throughout the whole situation leading Wally to infer that this wasn’t the first time that this had happened--not to mention his and Iris's earlier brief exchange.

" _Barry_.", he repeated this time a little louder with a gentle, yet firm, grip on the younger mans forearm.

"Iris, what's going on?", Wally whispered to her. They were both still at the entrance of the room, just out of sight from any occupants within because of how the weak lighting spread. Of course, he could guess that this was a nightmare--a _bad_ nightmare, but still--the way they were handling it--it seemed like something more might've been going on. She seemed hesitant to answer at first but let her shoulders slump as she began to explain. "Has dad ever told you why Barry came to live with us?"

"No", he replied cautiously, wary of where this was going.

"Well when he was eleven-", she  was  cut off by another cry from the room in front of them. "H-He watched his mother get murdered."

The blunt and shocking statement took a minute to solidify within Wally's mind. His knees suddenly felt weak. He wanted to ask if he heard wrong, but the formulating words seemed to get caught in his throat. Before he could process the information, she went on. "His father was wrongfully put away for it, but he was finally exonerated a few months ago after Harrison Wells confessed to doing it _._ " _Harrison Wells?...Barry's old mentor_?!

"Oh my god.", he mumbled under his breath.

"After we took him in, he started having these nightmares--so dad decided to take him to a few specialists", she seemed to get choked up mid-sentence. "They diagnosed his with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Depression."

He felt light-headed. How could that be? Barry seemed to be one of the most cheery and dorky souls he's ever met--so smart and optimistic--annoyingly _perfect_.

His whole entire perspective on the man seemed to change in an instant.

Finally, Barry shot up in his bed, his wide eyes filled with panic--absently mumbling under his breath. Wally had to strain to hear the quiet jumble of, "Mom, mom. No. I-I'm sorry." before the words faltered off. He seemed to be coming to his senses again, now aware of Joe's mute presence behind him as the older man instinctively wrapped his arms around his son in an attempt to sooth him down from the panic.

Tears began to fall as Barry covered a strained whimper that reluctantly escaped his mouth with a tremor-ridden hand. He broke down on the spot right in front of Wally--all emotional walls of the dam within his mind tumbling until they were nothing but rubble and ash, water rushing out with nothing to stop it. Sure, he wasn't actually aware that Wally was there but the fact that he would show this amount of raw, unadulterated weakness with anyone perplexed the younger man.

Barry leaned into his foster fathers warm embrace, curling in on himself so tight as if he wanted to just pop out of existence all together. His eyes closed trying to stop the uncontrollable tears as sobs wracked through his body.

Before Wally knew it, there was complete darkness. It took him a minute to realize that Iris had shut the door. "We should get back to bed.", Iris rasped out flatly. He heard the soft pat of feet against hardwood and then the click of a door being shut.

 

The next morning, Barry came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes to adjust them to the sun, cascading off the polished marble of the counter tops from the window. Wally stayed quiet as he sipped what was left of the milk out of his bowl from the cereal he just chowed down, wishing that Iris and Joe hadn't both went to work their early shifts at their differentiating jobs so a lingering awkwardness wouldn't be emanating  through the room. He saw Wally. "Hey.", he said with a bright smile. "Hey.", the younger of the two replied, brows in a knotted in confusion at the man's normal demeanor. All Wally could think was 'how _'. How to you do that?_

 


End file.
